UNSC Origins
by Perun Lock
Summary: A world on the brink of collapse. The 21st Century is a tough time for humanity. With little resources and Peak Oil well under way, the UN leads the search for alternative resources. Their focus is on the solar system and outer space even with Humanities Solar exploration and colonization efforts having just begun. UNSC is at its emergence and a Pioneer is needed. Look for the AN!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my take on life today in reality and in our future on this planet. Of course combined with a favourite game; HALO. Hopefully I'll have balanced some of my darker thoughts with light fantasy. Enjoy, and please, review! Dieu et mon Droit!**

Chapter One

The Desert out here was like an ocean. The sand dunes rose like waves in to the purple night sky. The heat shimmered like mist on the horizon. But it was not all good. The desert played tricks. A simple branch could become a gun barrel in less than a second, a friendly guard would become an enemy insurgent. It was a tough place to soldier, but I'd seen worse. Been worse. My contractor, Schemen Kompanie, was assigned here until 2077, but we all knew we'd be dead or out of work long before then. The Oil Wars were talked of every day. Slowly our resources were running out. War was coming. Whether you liked it or not there was no Pacifist on this Earth any more. For our race, Humanity, lived by the sword and as such would die by the sword. Sorry. I know I went off subject there. The reason I talk of the Oil War is because, I guard one of the most important pieces of infrastructure seen in Human history, the Turkish oil pipe; Baku – Tbilisi – Ceyhan. The life vein which supplied the West with their oil. Had this line been any further south the conflict in my homeland of Israel, and Syria would've started war long before today. My name is Yilmaz. I am an Israeli-German brought up in Germany where I lived for most of my life. Aged 18 I joined the German Army and after serving for 3 years I joined _FSLK _and my brethren in the German Elite. It was the toughest 16 months of my life. Recruitment in FSLK was strenuous and overseen by instructors not only from Germany but from Russian Spetznaz, and the best of the best; British SAS. After serving my time, I continued to help my country. When the UN approached my nation requesting peacekeepers to send to the fragile oil pipes in the middle east. Politically, Germany agreed and sent 400 Infantry men and women from the regular army. However, under the table, German military and political elite held a conference and agreed the restraints that bound UN Peacekeepers would do little for any nation if war broke out. So Schemen Kompanie was created. A 'privately' owned Security company of which I was a part of. My reminiscence was broken when Klaus, a colleague of mine tapped me on the shoulder and relieved me of the watch. It was another's turn to guard the fragile shell that contained what might as well be liquid money and what kept peace in an equally fragile world.

Hurriedly I walked back to the barracks and sat down at the table with a shot of White Russian. BBC News was on. The best news corps in the world, I thought to myself. It was the same old stories, Oil, shortages, football. Thinking of footy, I leant forward making note of the scores. We'd won 2-0! Against Bayern as well, that wasn't too bad. It might've been 2 hours and 6 shots later that I heard someone enter the dorm.

" Hallo?"

"Sorry I don't speak German. Do you speak English?"

I still had not turned from my position in the chair. I had my feet resting on the table and my arse planted in a seat. I was comfy. Why should I move for this guy? As I casually made ready to respond, I rolled straight off the chair and onto the floor in a haze of Vodka and stiffness. Dammit. I'd made a fool of myself. As I looked up, my situation seemingly sunk lower. Just my luck. This was no guy. _She_ was a woman. Mumbling to myself I remembered I'd never really been that good with women. What I wanted to say was 'Sorry. I think I've had a bit too much of this, would ya like some?' what came out was an 'ouergghh' moan as I realized that the Brunette whose face I was looking into was one of the single best looking women I'd ever seen. But maybe that was the drink talkin'. Finally, gathering what little wit I had I managed to say;

"I'm so sorry."

A smile seemed to play across the woman's lips.

"No need for the apology. Mind if I get a shot?"

Nodding I stood up and brushed myself down. I sat once more at the seat, across from the newcomer. She wore a pair of silver rimmed aviators with a purple shade that obscured her eyes but for a little glint. Her hands were utterly steady as she poured two shots, not so much as a twitch.

"Here"

She pushed a shot glass across to me, full with plain, cold Vodka. The stranger, whom I yet seemed to remember, studied me. I shrugged empathetically and turned to the TV. I could still feel her eyes on the back of my neck. Within seconds the News came to an end I switched off the TV and silence engulfed us. Through the mosquito netting I could see the Sun setting on the horizon. So strange here in the Middle East, the sun always seemed to sink below the skyline in a haze of purple rather than blue. It was a nice strange though. One I hoped I could enjoy, at least for now. Sighing I looked at the shot and at hers. Both were still full. In silence she raised her own glass to me and in a silent salute we both downed them. As I lowered my glass to the table I felt a sudden wave of nausea hit me. A tiredness that was wiping me off my feet with the blows of a sledgehammer. The woman across from me took no concern and lowered her shades a little revealing deep blue eyes. Strangely as I drifted into unconsciousness, I noted her brown hair was faded blond at the roots. Strange. Especially for a final thought as I entered the plains of alternative reality...


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: This is my take on life today in reality and in our future on this planet. Of course combined with a favourite game; HALO. Hopefully I'll have balanced some of my darker thoughts with light fantasy. Enjoy, and please, review! Dieu et mon Droit!**

Chapter Two

I awoke to a deep groan and a ticking of mechanisms deep below me in the heart of... of what? Where was I? I suddenly became uncertain. Was the groan that I had awakened too below me or was it in fact, _me_? I was slumped against a cold, metal wall. Rust ran in patchwork along the length of the wall stretching off into blurry distance. The faded paint reminded me of an old Russian cruiser I had been on while training just outside of Arkhangel. There was the groan again and I began to tilt slightly to the left. And then back. Well at least the groan wasn't me, one less thing wrong. Surely this was a cruiser. No, I wasn't thinking clearly. All ships rolled stupid. I knew I would have got a slap across the top of my head from my CO if she'd been there. Well, I clearly wasn't near the barracks. And there was no German bloke reading his bloody classics in a bunk next to me. Decidedly I thought "Must be a Ship". I acutely became aware of a growing pain in the back of my neck. "Idiot!" I thought. I should get up I had been thinking outside of my body. Slowly I clambered to my feet and not for the first time brushed myself down.

"Mein Gott!"

I was thinking aloud again. I stooped slightly to the left as I looked on up through the gangway past watertight doors that slunk away into darkness as the light from the single bare bulb on the wall dispersed. Suddenly a large groan ran through the length of what I thought was a ship. Bang.

For the second time I awoke. This time it certainly was me doing the groaning. "Oh God...". I had been moved. Or moved myself. I stared out ahead of me into darkness and suddenly became aware of the hail pouring onto my face. Ahead of me I saw the waves crashing, the white froth a murky grey in the dull light cast by headlamps from the cabin high above. So I had been right! This was a ship, a tanker! I was slumped in the same position as I had been earlier but now against a container marked with militant lettering '31R3' before I had a chance to give it a second thought I felt again nauseous and my head rolled forward onto my chest as the darkness of not only the night but of myself crawled across my eyes.

Flash. Flash, flash. A bright, sterile white light blasted through my blinking eyelids as I struggled to regain my vision. It was as if I had been hit with a flash bang. My ears were picking up muffled noise. Someone was shouting. Normal. I was always getting shouted at. But I couldn't tell what they were saying. Mumbling I was dragged to my feet. A wave crashed against myself and the pair of hands that held me up. Together we went tumbling to the deck. Within seconds the light was back in my eyes but this time I could see, hear and speak. The light was attached to a gun. The gun was held by a hand. The hand belonged to an arm. And the arm, was attached to a man. A very serious man. Probably German.

"Hallo? Hello? Bonjo-"

"Enough of that Froggy bulls**t thank you. I'm bloody listening." I said unsympathetically.

So the guy was British. I liked the Brits. At least he wasn't French. Or worse American! I shuddered. I wasn't quite sure whether it was the cold or the thought of a coward laying hands on me that did it. The man was on second look was without doubt English. Oxford probably. He had the moustache as well. But his strong Geordie accent put those thoughts to bed. He'd probably be offended if he'd known what I'd been thinking. Gathering my confused nerves I tried to shake myself free of his grip. But he held on firmly.

"Listen. I have to give you this. You'll be out like a light." The strong Geordie accent hung on his every word.

Suddenly I felt weak. Looking too just below my left shoulder a field needle protruded from my webbing. I went out like a light. I was having enough of this whole coma bollocks. As I slipped deeper into the realms of my mind and reality faded I thought; the next time I'm awake I'm staying awake. I need answers...

When I awoke from my seemingly ceaseless blackouts, it was not a sight that first greeted me but a noise. The thump of rotor blades chopping at air. The air was almost thick- or it sounded like it as the thumping kept on going. Calmly I opened my eyes. I was staring up at the roof of the chopper, or what I assumed it to be. The roof was covered in netting holding uniforms and full Bergen's, it swayed in the breeze. Wait. Breeze? I looked to my left. Two side doors, parallel to each other were wide open. Bright sunlight flooded the interior of the helicopter. I felt a tap on my shoulder. Looking around I saw the same Brit who had given me the injection.

"Awake at last mate? Took your time! You've been out around eight hours. We're in friendly airspace now."

I looked up at him with what I can only assume must be the single most confused face he'd ever seen. The man, let out a laugh that shook his body. He winced at me.

"Oh man! You're in for a hell of a ride mate! Better save _that_ face for another time!"

"Commander, er, I appear to be aboard a helicopter in the middle of f*****g nowhere. When I went to sleep, wait, went unconscious three f*****g times, I was aboard an Oil Tanker and the time before that I was in f*****g Turkey!"

My voice was slowly rising.

"What the f**k do you expect?!"

The Commander looked down at the floor of the chopper.

"We're 378 miles off the southern coast of Cyprus-"

Before the guy could finish I exploded. I was confused, angry-

"What the actual f**k! How the bloody hell did I even get here?"

Giving me a look that afforded some guilt he replied.

"Sorry, it's above my pay grade. But I can tell you we evacuated you from the Tanker 'Cnaeus Sejanus' 71 miles out of Casablanca. The hull was nearly underwater. Listen. I don't know who you are apart from a name, and if I'm honest you'd best thank who ever ordered the air-vac otherwise you'd have been a goner."

Seeing the look of confusion still a permanent feature on my face he reached to a pocket on his chest. I had noticed his rank but on second attempt I also recognised his SBS Commando badge sewn neatly onto his right shoulder. He pulled from his pocket a blue Israeli passport and flicked it open to the first page. Looking up he told me.

"I checked this before I woke you up on the Tanker. It's your passport. You are Zacharias Bar-Or of Tiberias. Sorry, I should've realized the injection might've done this."

His touch of sympathy _did not_ assure me. But I decided to play along all the same. Whoever the hell this Bar-Or was, could play it how he liked but Zac was my old name. My true name. And Tiberius _was_ my place of birth, where most of my family lived and still live. Where the f**k had he got the passport? I'd be f****d if it was mine.

"Hey where exactly did you get the passport?"

Wincing again the Commander struggled with the thought.

"It was in your webbing"

He pointed to the pouch on my waist. A shout emerged from down the aircraft. A feminine voice. One I recognised. I took in the rest of my surroundings. I was on a British made Chinook. It was the hybrid, re adapted and advanced for use in combat. This version seemed to be of the same year, 2020. It must have cost a fortune. Only a few soldiers littered down the chopper. All of them seemed to be wearing RMP gear, they were relaxed but isolated from the rest of us near the cockpit. The commander who had been talking to me, turned his back and walked up to the cockpit door leaning in and talking to the co-pilot. Over his shoulder I could see a woman looking back. Delicate, white skin and dark brown hair tied back under her helmet. She wore aviators that shielded her eyes from my vision. As I opened my mouth to shout at her the door slammed shut. And the Commander turned back to me. His confident, relaxed posture gone. When he reached me he said.

"You speak German right?"

"Right"

"Betrieb Rostok"

I looked up at him, shock quickly shot across my face. But I had buried it in a moment.

"Are you certain? I mean your British, you shouldn't even know that."

"Beyond certain."

He walked off down the interior of the aircraft, I assumed to tell the RMP's to suit up. What the Commander had just told me shocked me to the core. Operation Rostok was the fabrication of the ARIS Alliance. It indicated that a level Three event had occurred. Level Three, is a military level code for crisis. If you had a full drought and power shutdown in North America; that would be a level One. A level Three told me an unimaginable event had occurred that had only ever been considered in films which had never hit the screens as the ideas behind them were too damaging to society. If you remember I had been guarding the Baku – Tbilisi – Ceyhan Oil Pipe before this... this thing had occurred. What my superiors had feared, in my mind may have come true. Oil reserves had reached 'Peak Oil'. The only oil left was stored in vats in nations across the world. It was being saved for the rich and powerful and nations from which it was extracted, all of whom had disappeared into bunkers deep below the earth's surface to avoid the colossal war which in all likelihood would spell mankind's end.

ARIS for those who do not know is the Anglo-Russo-Israelite-Scandinavian alliance, although a Germany-Poland Union (GPU) had already been pre made and would join the ARIS nations 30 days after its activation. From down the chopper came the sound of raised voices. The RMP's were changing into Service uniforms and donning Kevlar protection.

"Zac!"

The Commander shouted for me as he struggled to strap on leg protection.

"Zac, we're around two hours from Base, I'm staying with you, but you have a 2-day cooling off period. At 19:00 hours local time, in 48-hours I'll take you to report for duty. I don't know where, who with or any other details, but for these next two days we'll get you kitted out, check the extent of your training and let you relax."

Nodding I thought to myself 'He talks like he knows me and yet I don't even know his name'...

"Commander"

He turned around

"What's your name? You know so much about me and me so little about you!"

"My name is Aleks."

Nodding he turned away deep in thought. I wasn't sure I was keeping up with my own life at the moment... And who was this brunette who kept showing up? The answers I sought had been granted and yet I now had a hundred more including how I had covered 2,520 miles in 240 minutes... So many questions I needed answering and yet I hadn't even addressed the most dangerous one which happened to be the likelihood that the world around me was descending into chaos and war. Strange day. An odd burning sensation rippled on the inside of my arm. I flinched. Probably just a bite...


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: This is my take on life today in reality and in our future on this planet. Of course combined with a favourite game; HALO. Hopefully I'll have balanced some of my darker thoughts with light fantasy. Enjoy, and please, review! Dieu et mon Droit!**

Chapter 3

The Chinook touched down at the Israeli Naval base at Atlit in the early hours of the morning. The base buzzed with activity. The famed Shayetet 13 was stationed here. The elite Israeli naval commando unit that had breached and cleared the Karine A, a Palestinian 'freighter' which had been found to carry long, to medium range offensive weapons as well as firearms destined for the Israeli-Palestinian war. Men ran back and forth dressed in black Commando uniform.

"Zac, come on, our quarters are this way. You can grab a shower if you need it and a change of clothes. You can pick up equipment later."

I followed as the Commander, Oost, walked off towards a barracks in the centre of the compound. As I walked away I glanced back into the belly of the Chinook just in time to see the woman in aviators standing nonchalantly against the metal interior. Before I could get a better look, the tailgate closed and the Chinook rose into the air.

The dust and dirt that flew about in the air made me turn my back and I hurriedly followed Oost into the barracks.

As I stepped into the corridor I blinked my eyes as they adjusted to the gloom.

"Oost"

I shook my head, I didn't even know this guy and yet I talked like we were best mates. The big soldier turned to face me.

"Oost, look, I don't mean to be insulting, but, I'm a German soldier working in Turkey for Schemen Kompanie, I'm not sure how long ago, but I was sipping Vodka, and watching _'Die Knappen' _play footy. Then I'm on a ship with a f**k off headache and..."

I trailed off. My mouth moved but no sound emerged. I felt weak. I was no ponce but Christ, I had no idea what had happened in the past few hours, days I don't know... Oost swapped position standing cross armed ahead of me. He scratched his head.

"Look I'll tell you all I know; I'm a marine based in the British Consulate in Casablanca. I was given orders to report to an NATO Air Base inland. I went, got told by memo to get on a heli'. The pilot told me we were headed for a Tanker in the Atlantic, showed me a mug shot of you, your name and a few details. We got there I dropped, and found you easily actually, against the side of a crater. I took you back up. In the heli on the way here we heard the news, the Peak Oil, you've heard it before. But it's worse."

A bead of sweat trickled down the man's nose.

"In my words and in the words of Prof. Allan McGloughlin 'We have failed to get off our fix of fossil fuels.' We've had 20 years to deal with this fossil fuel-global warming s**t and we've done F all. We use oil in a lot more than its liquid form. It is, no exaggeration, the lynchpin of society and industry. Christ we use the stuff for everything. Electricity, heating, transport. Losing it all? That's one hell of a blow. Even now with what little we have we'll get by for a while. Now in the heat of the moment, the guys at the top wanna do something. That something is replace oil. We don't have Fusion, dark matter, solar or thermal in their highest forms so their, at least for now inadequate. What the government want is a quick fire replacement inside the next 6 months. It's the god damn Hirsch report word for f*****g word."

The hallway was quiet. The bloke seemed to look a bit self conscious. Muttering he turned and continued walking up the hall towards the room. Raising my eyebrows I followed hurriedly although considerably staggered by the synopsis.

We walked into a prefab metal walled room. It was about the size of a typical Hotel suite and for a warzone, impressively furnished for us. In opposite ends of the room were single beds, with mattresses and sheets. At the foot of each was a dark green plastic chest that could be snapped open. In the corner was a small living area type place. It had a small sofa and chair with a coffee table and small TV. A couple of Jerry cans were filled with water in the corner but we would be expected to eat at the canteen at the appropriate times.

Two small square windows were fitted above the two beds and a slightly bigger one was between the beds and could be opened a little. Besides that, the bed was devoid, but for a small layer of sand on the floor. It was better than I had expected and grinned broadly despite my situ. At least I had a decent cot.

"The showers are just over there."

He pointed to a small cluster of cubicles outside of the window with shower heads above them.

I nodded gratefully at him. Maybe he was at fault in some way for this jacks**t I was in, but I was being looked after. After all I was a soldier and would follow my orders. My only conflict was that from whom I was taking orders had no affliction with Schemen Kompanie or the German Military. Should I not ask why I was not being reassigned back to a German Unit?

I walked to the cubicles and stood and turned on the shower. I was showering in the middle of a FOB. Soldiers went back and forth not looking twice at me showering stark naked. Of course the cubicle offered a little privacy but not a lot. This was army life. In a way soldiering in Turkey had not been so difficult as I could sleep in my bunk with little worry of an enemy assault and shower in my own bathroom.

The sharp pain I had felt on the Chinook returned. It was like my veins were moving up to the skin surface. Wincing I looked down at the inside of my arm. To my surprise I saw some dark scripture. Rubbing at it painfully I swore as if a reflex but then realised that it was in fact a tattoo! It was writing in a very small font. Hebrew. It said 'Not all who wander are lost. Your purpose may not be know but to others it is set in stone. Trust brother.'


End file.
